Chapter 10

DARIAN

She’s bleeding.

The words echoed in my head, refusing to settle.

I moved before I could think. Fast and silent. Every step down the marble hallway was filled with dread I refused to name. Not fear. Not concern. Just... tension. That’s all.

The scent of blood was the first thing I noticed.

It clung to the air, harsh, metallic and wrong.

My heart slammed once, tqq

hen again.

I pushed open the door.

She was there.

Zaria.

Slumped against the bathroom sink, her wedding dress streaked with crimson, the fabric clinging to her as if it, too, was begging her to stay upright. Her head was bowed, strands of hair stuck to her damp forehead, her fingers trembling as she tried to hold herself steady.

But she couldn’t.

Her head jerked up when she heard me, her eyes unfocused and glassy.

“I’m fine,” she said, voice barely a whisper. “It’s just…”

And in the next second….she collapsed.

I was at her side before she hit the tiles.

“Hey Zaria…Zaria, look at me.”

Her eyes fluttered, unfocused. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

“Call my doctor,” I snapped at the maid behind me. “Now.”

I lifted her gently, cradling her against me. Her body was too light and fragile. The kind of fragile that said something had been breaking for a long time and I didn’t see it.

My hands were shaking and I didn’t bother hiding it.

Her lips moved again and this time a whisper.

I leaned closer.

“Don’t... tell them... about…”

“Shh. Don’t talk.” My voice cracked. “Just hold on.”

She didn’t respond. Her lashes fluttered once… and then she went limp in my arms.

“Get the damn car ready!” I barked at the maid hovering by the door. “NOW!”

I drove.

No driver. No staff. Just me, her, and the sound of tires tearing across asphalt.

She was lying in the back seat, curled slightly, a blanket wrapped around her. I kept checking the rearview mirror, watching her chest rise and fall in shallow little gasps.

She looked like a ghost.

No…worse. She looked like someone who had been trying to be fine for far too long.

My fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. Not to her.

Why the hell didn’t I see it?

I remembered the way she’d looked at me the day before, her eyes full of something she didn’t say.

I thought it was guilt.

But maybe it was just exhaustion.

What happened to you, Zaria?

What happened to the girl who used to sneak barefoot into my room just to lie in bed and talk about the stars?

When did she become this... shadow?

The red lights blurred past and I didn’t slow down.

“Almost there,” I muttered under my breath, even though she wasn’t awake to hear it.

She didn’t move.

Her fingers were curled into the hem of her dress like she was holding on for dear life.

And I hated how helpless I felt.

Soon I pulled up to the private entrance.

The nurses were already waiting, two of them rushed forward as I stepped out and opened the back door.

“Careful,” I barked as they reached in. “She’s losing blood. I don’t know from where. She just collapsed.”

“We’ve got her, sir.”

They moved fast, lifting her onto a stretcher and wheeling her inside.

I followed close behind, ignoring the blur of murmuring staff and the sharp scent of antiseptic.

“Vitals are unstable,” a nurse said as we entered the emergency wing.

“BP’s low. She’s cold. Check for internal bleeding.”

The words twisted in my stomach.

I’d seen injuries. Gunshot wounds. Trauma. Hell, even overdoses.

But I’d never seen Zaria like this.

Not broken, not barely breathing.

They wheeled her into a room.

A nurse turned to me. “Are you family?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I’m her husband.”

She nodded and stepped aside to let me through.

I stood there, staring at her pale figure beneath the white sheets. Tubes, wires, and machines blinking.

I’d said I’d make her suffer.

But I hadn’t meant this.

I never meant this.

I paced the hallway like a man unravelling.

Every second felt like it was dragging its claws across my skin. The soft beeping of machines, the murmur of nurses, the scent of antiseptic, none of it touched the chaos in my chest.

She hadn’t spoken on the ride here.

Her eyes fluttered open once, just once and then closed again.

I’d called Felix personally. One of my top doctors, he was trusted and discreet.

He'll arrive within minutes.

“She’s stable for now,” one of the nurses said gently. “Vitals are erratic but holding.”

“What the hell happened to her?” I muttered. “This morning, she was fine. Quiet. But fine.”

“She’s not fine,” the nurse said softly. “She hasn’t been for a while. This didn’t just happen overnight.”

I didn’t respond.

Because I didn’t have an answer.

I turned when I heard footsteps. Calm and purposeful.

He stepped into the hallway, already pulling on gloves.

Tall and calm. The type of man who’d seen a hundred crises and never flinched. I trusted him with my life…and now hers.

“Thanks for coming,” I said stiffly.

“As long as she's your wife, she’s my patient, too,” he said without looking at me. “Let’s go.”

I followed him into the room.

Zaria was there, pale against the white sheets. An IV in her arm. Machines blinking beside her like distant stars.

Felix moved toward her. Then stopped cold.

His eyes locked on her face.

And for the first time in all the years I’d known him, I saw him hesitate.

“Zaria…” he breathed.

I turned to look at him.

“You know her?”

He didn’t answer.

The room felt like it dropped a few degrees.

He slowly stepped forward, his expression unreadable, but his eyes wide with something close to panic…or guilt.

I frowned. “Felix?”

But he didn’t hear me.

He was still staring at her.

And when he finally spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper.

“Dear God. What have you gotten yourself into this time?”